


Amerika, Amerika

by Soronya



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Horses, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outlaw Richard Kruspe, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Sheriff Paul Landers, Weapons, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soronya/pseuds/Soronya
Summary: Paul is the sheriff of the small town somewhere in the middle of New Mexico, close to the Rio Grande. His town is well organised, the people are hard-working. Paul's life seems to go well until a group of money-grubbing and ruthless men show up, wanting to claim the land for themselves to dig for oil. And if that wasn't enough, there's a small-time criminal calling himself RZK who's annoying Paul to the bits.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Amerika, Amerika

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, my dear friends!  
> This project has been bugging me for months now and although I swore, I wouldn't write any multichapter fics anymore - well, never say never, right?  
> Most of the story is already planned out, now I just need to write it down. I can't promise regular updates, but I will try my very best!  
> A huge thank you goes out to [Nikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere) for being a wonderful beta. I am so thankful for having a native speaker at my side! Thank you for your advice and your encouragement!  
> Also, [Milrekki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milrekki) is the reason I write this story and her advice and ideas are what keep me going. Thank you, love! ♥  
> I love Wild West movies and I am a horse girl, so be prepared for unnecessary details here and there.  
> And now, have fun reading!

The dust danced in the sunlight that fell through the small windows into the sheriff’s office. Inside, the air was hot and sticky, although the front door was wide open. But it hadn’t rained properly in weeks and the short showers that came down only semi-regularly didn’t even reach the sandy ground. Since it was still mid-summer, nobody in this area expected it to cool down anytime soon.

Paul lifted his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead. His mouth was dry and he was in need of a drink, but he wanted to finish his paperwork first. Several documents were spread out over his desk and Paul rested his chin on his hand while going over them again.

His wooden chair creaked as he shifted in it, trying to get more comfortable. He still had to finish filling out some papers due to a criminal that got caught in his town last week and was deported to a prison in Albuquerque, quite some miles to the east.

Additionally, Paul had some information regarding the whereabouts of a small-time criminal who was getting to be quite a thorn in his side. Luckily, that mug who went by the nickname RZK hadn’t injured or killed anyone – yet. Although Paul doubted he was that kind of man who stopped at nothing. Therefore, RZK’s criminal actions hadn’t been bad enough and probably would never be.

However, he had robbed several banks and stores in the surrounding area. Paul was sure it was only a question of time until RZK would come to Mesita Creek, too. And if he dared to rob the bank in the town Paul was sheriff in, he would most definitely regret it. Paul was going to set a trap for him and catch him so that his townsfolk wouldn’t have to be afraid of said criminal. This RZK might only be a small criminal, a bugger and a thief, however, Paul didn’t want him to endanger the peace in his town.

But first, he had to go through all the little telegrams and letters he got regarding how RZK orchestrated his heists. He sighed as he tried to concentrate on his papers again, but his vision blurred.

For fuck’s sake, Paul hated the summers in this region. It was always too hot and too dry and it didn’t even cool down properly at night. Furthermore, although they had a small river arm of the Rio Grande close, water was a valuable good during these days.

He took off his hat and tossed it onto the table in frustration. The papers Paul had already gone through and stacked neatly at the top of his desk fluttered and glided to the floor. Paul groaned in frustration. It seemed like this wasn’t going to be his day.

Just as he got up from his chair to collect the documents, he heard loud noises coming from outside. It wasn’t unusual for people to shout or curse at each other, but this didn’t sound like the usual quarrels Paul dealt with on a daily basis. He stopped in his tracks and listened.

“What a shithole this is,” a male voice said loudly and spat out. 

“Yeah,” a second one agreed and laughed dirtily. “But at least the chicks are decent.”

“Ow!” A high-pitched yelp rang out, paired with a sound of distress. “Let go of me, you dirty bastard!”

Paul’s eyes got wide as he recognised the voice of the woman who had just yelled and he hurried to grab his hat, running out of his office. He checked for his colt that sat in its holster to Paul’s right side, making sure he could pull it as quick as possible if needed.

As he stepped outside into the hot and merciless sun, he saw two white men, one blond with a crooked nose and the other with long, dark hair and a scruffy moustache. They stood in front of the saloon which was directly opposite to the sheriff’s office. The blond one held a woman in his arm, pressing her close against his torso. She struggled, trying to break free from his harsh grip and Paul realised he had been right. It was Jenny, the wife of his best friend Flake.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Paul addressed them ironically, his hand warningly hovering over his gun. Simultaneously, they turned towards him and the blond one loosened his grip on Jenny, who used her chance to get free.

“Are you alright?” Paul asked her as she ran towards him, anger written all over her face.

She nodded. “He didn’t hurt me,” she explained. “I asked whether I could help them, then he grabbed me and wouldn’t let go of me anymore. Asshole.”

“That your wife?” The blond man asked, nodding into Jenny’s direction. “You should teach her some manners!”

“Maybe I should teach you some manners,” Paul retorted but he remained calm. He looked at Jenny and sent her away with a nod of his head, sending her out of direct danger. She ran off and vanished around a corner. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Our boss sends us,” the scruffy man answered. “Says this region is promising. Oil, maybe even gold. You don’t happen to know something about it?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t know any reason why it’d be of your concern,” Paul responded, stepping closer to the two men. “And I highly suggest you leave now.”

“Who are you, even, to make such demands?” The blonde one asked, squinting his eyes.

“The sheriff of this town you just called a  _ shithole _ ,” Paul told him, his voice stern.

“Oh, it doesn’t have to stay like this. Imagine, this could be a rich town,” the scruffy guy taunted. “This land is promising. Maybe the mines contain some gold, who knows. But more importantly, our boss is sure there’s oil under the land to the west.”

“The land to the west is property of the Mescalero Apaches,” Paul countered, his teeth gritted. He knew very well how people like these two thugs saw the natives of this country. Their status was often seen as lesser than that of an animal, just like a target that was easy to kill and you could vaunt about the fact you wiped them off of the earth.

“Forget about the stupid redskins,” the blond man said, a sneer on his face. “They don’t have a say in this.”

“Exactly,” the other man chimed in. “We can make you rich. And I am sure those bloody Indians even have gold. Lots of it. They’re gonna show us where they keep it and then you can bathe in money!”

“Good thing I don’t want that,” Paul answered. “And now you can leave my town. You’re no longer welcome here. In fact, I don’t think you ever were welcome.”

“Why, we just wanna have a drink in your saloon,” the scruffy man said, sucking at his front teeth as if trying to get rid of a crumb stuck between them. “Check out this city, you know. Explore the potential of it.”

“You ain’t explorin’ anything,” Paul scoffed. “And your visiting hours are over.”

“I don’t think our boss would like your concept of hospitality,” the other man said, leering at Paul. “Come on, we just wanna have a drink in your saloon.”

“You can just fuck off,” Paul answered. “None of you sets a foot into the saloon as long as I’m the sheriff.”

The blond guy laughed. “Oh, feisty little man. I don’t think you’ll be in charge for much longer.”

Paul saw the man pulling out his gun, but he was quicker. His colt was out of the holster before the blond man could even blink. He aimed for the man’s right hand that had barely started to draw out his gun and shot. 

The bullet hit its target and the man cried out in pain, gripping his right wrist with his left hand. His palm was bleeding, fingers standing off in odd angles and his gun lying in the dirt. He looked at Paul in horror, slowly retreating, as the dark-haired man stepped forward.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he hissed, spitting out in Paul’s direction. “Santer’s gonna come for your head.”

“Let’s see him try,” Paul said, cocking the revolver and aiming at him. “Now fuck off!”

“Remember my words, boy,” the man scorned, escorting his injured pal over to their horses. “You should have accepted our offer.”

Paul watched them mount intensely, still having his gun ready to shoot, although he knew those guys meant no harm any longer – for now, at least. Just as they took off, forcing their horses into a quick canter, a tall and thin man came running towards him from in between some houses, a rifle in his hands.

“Paul!” he shouted, slightly out of breath. “Are you alright? I heard gunshots!”

“I am!” Paul answered, lowering his gun. “I am, Flake. Thank you.”

“Jenny told me some guys were causing trouble,” Flake said, lowering his rifle as he came to a halt beside his friend. “Said they were harassing her and you came to her help.”

“Yeah,” Paul nodded. “But they’re gone now.”

“What did they want?” Flake asked, furrowing his brow.

“You know what? How about we have a beer while I tell you,” Paul suggested, putting an arm around Flake’s shoulder and walking with him towards the saloon. “I am in desperate need of a drink.”

Flake nodded, letting himself be dragged along, and only a few minutes later they sat at the bar of the saloon, both with pints of beer in their hands. Paul chugged down half of it before he sighed deeply, watching their bartender Paulo polishing some glasses.

“I am afraid there’s some trouble waiting for us, Flake,” Paul eventually said, wiping the froth off of his upper lip. “Those guys were just the vanguard if you ask me.”

“What did they want?” Flake inquired, waving off a rather bothersome fly that kept bugging him. “Anything in particular?”

“Mh,” Paul nodded grimly. “They came for oil. And gold.”

Flake’s lips became a thin line as he inhaled deeply, shaking his head slowly. “There is no gold in our mines. Only iron and coal.”

“I know,” Paul agreed. “But the Apaches do have gold hidden somewhere in the mountains. And if there’s oil beneath these lands, I fear more people are about to come and try to claim our town. And the land of the natives.”

“Do you think there could be an oil occurrence here?” Flake asked him, raising one eyebrow and taking a big sip of his beer.

“I don’t know, Flake,” Paul sighed. “And honestly? I don’t really care. But I do know I don’t want the industry to come here and take over. We found a nice piece of land here, we’re on peaceful terms with the Apaches and we’re doing good. It’s no comparison to the life I had in Germany.”

Flake huffed. “Yeah, I agree. Although it’s simpler here. But at least we’re not starving or working in one of these horrible factories anymore.”

“And I would never want to do that again,” Paul agreed, giving Paulo a sign to refill his glass. Paulo took it with an encouraging smile.

“I am glad you’re the sheriff of this town,” Paulo told him. “I wouldn’t want to have those  _ matones  _ here, either.”

“Good you like it here, Paulo,” Paul said, waiting for his second beer. “I really want to make it work. This is not only a second chance for me but also for almost everyone else who lives here.”

“You’re doing good, Paul,” Paulo encouraged him, giving him back his now full glass. “We couldn’t have wished for a better sheriff.”

“Thank you,” Paul smiled and Flake patted his shoulder in an appreciative gesture.

“I am happy you stayed,” Flake acknowledged quietly, a supportive smile on his lips. Paul looked away, not wanting to talk about that now. But Flake didn’t inquire. Instead, he got up from his barstool, finishing his beer.

“I gotta go back to my office, Paul. I think there are some patients waiting for me,” Flake told him. “And I wanna check on Jenny again, too. Though I doubt there’s anything wrong with her. She’s probably nothing more than upset and angry.”

“She still wants to learn how to shoot a gun?” Paul grinned, happy about the change of topic. 

“Oh, you bet,” Flake laughed. “I think I have to teach her soon or otherwise she’ll simply ask Till. And you know how he is. He can’t say no to her.”

“Then I guess it’s better if you teach her,” Paul answered and winked at him. “Who knows what else Till would teach her once he got the chance.”

“I don’t even wanna think about it,” Flake said, shaking his head, but he had a smile on his face. Before he left, his facial expression became serious again.

“Do you think those guys are gonna cause some serious trouble?”

Paul shrugged. “I don’t know Flake. I don’t know. I wished they weren’t, but I have a feeling this wasn’t the last time we saw them. And I am afraid next time they show up, they won’t be alone.”

“Why?”

“They said something about their boss. A so-called Santer. Ever heard of him?” Paul asked, but Flake shook his head. Though, before he could answer, Paulo curses and Paul looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’ve heard rumours about him,” Paulo said. “Nothing good. A ruthless man who owns an oil company in south Texas.”

“What does he want here, then? South Texas is not exactly around the corner.”

“I wish I knew,” Paulo replied. “I just know that you better keep away from him if you’re not white or don’t agree with him – or both.”

“Seems like we have yet to see the last of those goons,” Paul mumbled, rolling his eyes. Trouble seemed to be on its way and apparently, it was very likely it couldn’t be stopped anymore. It was only a matter of time until Santer would arrive, his henchmen on his coat-tails and trying to get what he wanted, no matter what it cost. And Paul had a good hunch that Santer would even sell his own grandmother for a penny if the said penny was what he desired. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very appreciated!


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